


One More Year

by The_Norsiest



Category: Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Dancing, F/F, Formal event, Pining, long distant relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Norsiest/pseuds/The_Norsiest
Summary: Michael pines for Uhura. Spock tries to help. It's just another formal Starfleet affair.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	One More Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt of "Formal Event"

Dress uniforms were hardly what anyone would call “comfortable.” The tight hold around the neck, the itching that came from the cuffs, and the way they forced you to keep sucking in your gut; It was enough to drive you crazy! Unless, of course, you were a human raised by Vulcans. Then you had any number of meditative techniques to rely on to forget the sweating under your shirt and the stiffness of your collar. Michael was well adept when it came to using her mental discipline, so much so she barely even thought about her pants, cut just a hair too low. They kept catching at the back of her feet when she walked. It was something she’d have to alter on her next replication. 

For now Michael wasn’t considering how her uniform felt, rather how it looked and how she looked in it. She strode across the room with purpose, holding her head high with shoulders back in hopes of portraying the confidence she felt she lacked. She knew she made the uniform look good but would that be enough? 

The hall chosen for the ceremony had been structured in the Caladean fashion; triangle shaped tables had been positioned in a manner similar to star charts of the region. The brighter stars and their correlating tables held the most prestigious; the admirals and ambassadors. And of course a special table was reserved for members of Starfleet’s flagship, the USS Enterprise. Michael approached from her brother’s back. 

Before she could open her mouth to speak, Spock opened his. “If your intention was to be stealthy, I am afraid to inform you that you’ve failed, Captain.” He said, turning his head to meet Michael’s annoyed glance with his own amused stare.

“Funny, I thought ‘fear’ was an emotion you were beyond, little brother,” she smiled, the statement tilting a few heads at the table. 

Spock moved to stand and offered her the Vulcan salute, Michael returned the gesture, noting the small smile at the corners of his mouth. They allowed their hands to touch briefly in a gentle way no different than hugging between human siblings; their preferred greeting. When Spock moved back to sit down, the table was in full view again. Across from the half Vulcan sat the beautiful human woman who worked as communications officer on board his ship. 

Michael’s heart ached at the sight of Uhura. 

Her beautiful brown eyes lifted to meet Michael’s before falling back to the plate in front of her. The soft music chosen for the event was playing in the background. A band of various species were performing a variety of different genres from various cultures, all of which specifically chosen for their moving cadence. The Caladeans knew the importance of music to humanoid beings had spared no expense in planning. “Mr. Spock,” Uhura said, rather offhand. “Is it true that your people don’t dance?” she asked, coyly avoiding Michael’s gaze. 

Spock mulled over the question as he sensed his sister shift her weight behind him. The subtle tension between women not escaping his notice. “There are ancient forms of it on Vulcan but I do not believe you will find a common practice. I am sorry to say, Lieutenant, that it would be illogical of me to escort you to the dance floor…” He picked up the cup in front of him and appeared to be examining the contents, “my sister on the other hand, though raised on Vulcan, is still human and therefore has no such excuse to deny you the pleasure.” and he sipped his drink ignoring the glare Michael aimed at his back. 

If it could have gone unnoticed Michael might have kicked the back of Spock’s chair. That however would have been illogical and readily noticed amongst the surrounding Starfleet staff. Instead she had to rely on the age old custom of cursing him in her mind while she continued to smile. She turned to Uhura, cheeks beginning to heat “Would you like to dance, Lieutenant?” she asked calmly despite her racing heart. 

Uhura stood and moved over to Michael. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Michael made sure to bump her brother’s chair before following Uhura. It had been some years since she’d been a commander, back when the request for her attendance at Starfleet balls had been nonexistent. That had changed of course and much to the dismay of her first officer (who’d suffered many a broken toe) when Michael had taken to the holodecks in order to learn the basics of a waltz. 

Burnham placed her arm around Uhura’s waist and pulled her close. The ache within her grew. She hesitated, only for a moment to take her hand, trying to ignore the flood of emotions at the simple gesture which made her otherwise Vulcan heart flutter. The music set the pace and the pair began to move about the dance floor in graceful ease. 

“So,” Michael began, hoping to keep her senses by making small talk, “what do I have to do to procure the finest communications officer of the fleet?” she asked before twirling Uhura out and bringing her back in. 

Nyota elegantly came back with a flourish, softly colliding back into Michael and allowing herself to be held all the more tightly. “Do you mean as a crewman, or did you have something else in mind?” she shot back. 

A large grin spread over Michael’s face and she looked down, for a moment pretending to watch her footwork. “‘Procure’ might not have been a very sensible word.” she admitted. 

“You could try subspace communication more than once per week.” Uhura said as the two of them sidestepped to avoid the couple who were having trouble finding their rhythm. 

“If you were on my ship, I could see you every day.” Michael said, her voice dropping just a little and as she relaxed into something less formal. “We could have dinner together every night and not just when our ships pass each other. We could schedule shoreleave at the same time and finally visit the Yelnebu system.” 

A waiter lost his balance and fell down, landing directly in their path. Michael squeezed Uhura by the waist and picked her up as they twirled to move around one of the tables as well as the unfortunate server. The nearby guests clapped softly and commented on their performance as they moved past. 

Uhura let out a gasp with the gesture and found her feet again, head a little light from the thrill. “You really like sweeping a girl off her feet don’t you?” Uhura asked, still a little elated. 

Michael twirled with her back into the midst of swaying bodies. “It was only logical,” she commented. 

Uhura had to laugh a little. She knew from her years working with Spock that Vulcans would occasionally lie. Even human ones. She caught her breath and stared back into those beautiful brown eyes which held her hostage. “And we could hold hands” Nyota said with slight breathiness, her fingers moving to graze over Michael’s. “Every morning before shift and every night before bed. I could touch you whenever I wanted, instead of just dreaming about it at night.” The imagery made Michael melt. The whole room started to disappear from her vision, the rest of Starfleet fading away. Leaving only the two of them, dancing beneath the stars. 

“Put in a request tonight and I’ll have you transferred by tomorrow.” Michael offered. 

There was a sad note that rang out before the music stopped playing; the band reaching the end of their song. Neither woman wanted to give the other up. They held on as several people clapped and the tempo changed. “I can’t do that.” Uhura said, not losing her smile as she pulled away. 

“Why?” Michael asked desperately. 

She was already two feet away, her hand pulling from Micahel’s. The tips of their fingers slid apart. The distance between them might have been as boundless as space itself. “Because I have a duty to Enterprise.” She said “At least for another year… I won’t abandon my crew.” And Uhura turned away. 

Michael stood in the middle of the dance floor and watched as her beloved walked away. One more year and the Enterprise would complete it’s five year mission. One more year and Nyota would have no reason to deny a request for transfer, as long as Michael didn’t mess up what they had. And Michael certainly didn’t intend to mess that up. One more year, she told herself as Uhura sat down at the table and Spock glanced over to his sister with a supportive and understanding expression. 

Michael’s heart ached again. She’d been separated from love before. She just had to wait… 

One more year.


End file.
